Tangled Love on Pelican Point (Island County Series Book 3)

by Karice Bolton

“So that’s why you were asking me how long it took to make these?”

  “I figured if you had five down in an hour, I’d probably only get three or so done in the same amount of time, but I’ve got a system down.”

  “I’m so confused,” I whispered. “I don’t understand why.”

  He sat next to me and tipped my chin toward him. “Because you don’t even realize the light you shine on the world—in my world. It finally hit me at Pelican Point that what you gave me was time and space. You didn’t shut down on me. You didn’t push me to tell you things. You didn’t push me away when you didn’t get answers from me. I’m used to people with their hands out, and you were the exact opposite. You wouldn’t even take what I wanted to offer. Like I’ve mentioned before, it’s refreshing.”

  “Believe me, you’ve given me more than you can imagine,” I said, glancing at all the signs. “I mean, I could never repay you enough for everything you’ve done.”

  “So what was the surprise that wasn’t a good one today?” he asked, shifting the topic away from him.

  I let out a deep sigh and rested my head on his shoulder. “I was told that Loxxy was cutting back in the housekeeping department.”

  “You lost your job?” Anthony’s voice was low.

  “No. They want me to tell them who should be laid off, though, and I just can’t. I won’t. Everyone there needs their job as badly as any other.”

  “Why are they asking you to make that decision?”

  “I’m the assistant manager of the department.”

  “Why isn’t the manager of the department making that decision?”

  “Because there isn’t one. There are a lot of assistant managers at Loxxy and very few managers. They can get away with paying us less that way.” I gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sure this all sounds crazy to you, and I don’t want it to dampen what you just did for me. This is incredible.” I waved my hands toward the room.

  “So you’re happy?”

  “I’m honestly going to have to go to bed tonight pinching myself.” I looked at my phone and saw even more orders come through. “So how long did it wind up taking you?”

  “About twenty-five hours between Nick and me. It’s a lot of work. Are you sure you want to do this?” he teased.

  “Positive. It’s not that I don’t love every second of cleaning at Loxxy or serving food at the restaurant.” I winked. “But the idea of building something and creating something is my total fantasy.”

  “The orders are gonna keep coming in,” he said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “It’s just how it works.”

  I sighed. “I’m just sick about Loxxy laying people off. It makes no sense. They’re doing well.”

  “Maybe someone is mismanaging or something.”

  “Possibly.” I circled my finger along his leg and stared out the window.

  “I love this room. The other was nice, like a formal library in the English Countryside or something, but this is jaw-dropping.”

  “I used to hate this room, but now it’s my favorite.”

  “I’m surprised you let yourself have a favorite.”

  “What can I say? You were right. I’ve been letting that stuff eat away at me. I held it tight to my chest, never telling a soul, but all it did was make me blind to things that mattered.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just things.”

  I nodded and smiled, nestling in.

  “How did you become so brave?” I asked.

  “I’m not brave. What are you talking about?” His voice was seductive.

  “It’s not like you chose the easiest of professions. Yes, you have talent—”

  “You finally think so?” he interrupted, teasing me.

  “I know so, but so do a lot of people. What was inside of you that just said, I’m going for it?”

  “I never really thought about it. I knew it was something I loved to do, and I was willing to work any side job along the way to make it happen. Sound familiar?”

  I turned to look at him, and his eyes glinted with satisfaction.

  “Not really,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve just recently begun piecing my life together.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’ve got two jobs, sometimes three depending on when Natty needs help, and I’ve been trying to build my Etsy store.”

  “And you don’t see the similarity?”

  “My choices were out of necessity. Your choice was out of passion.”

  “Not true. We’re more alike than you realize.”

  “Doubtful. I’m a nervous wreck. Even as these good things come my way—and again, thank you for all of those—I’m constantly worried it will all slip away.”

  “How do you know I’m not?”

  “Are you?”

  “Always. That’s what makes me strive to do better. It’s okay to take the road less traveled, but sometimes you have to work ten times harder.”

  “But it’s worth it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  A nagging thought ate away at me about Loxxy, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to imagine a completely new life just yet.

  “Well, thank you for letting me imagine a little less and do a little more.” I sat up and crossed my legs over his lap, looping my arms around his neck. “The listing agent came by, right?”

  He nodded. “He said the moment I’m ready, to pick up the phone.”

  “How close are you to being ready?”

  He let out a heavy breath, and his gaze dropped to the signs. “I booked a flight the day after the concert.”

  “These signs are to soften the blow?” I asked, nodding toward his handiwork.

  “Maybe.”

  “And you’re sure you won’t stay? My apartment is pretty roomy, and I’m not even there half the time. You could get rid of this place and—”

  He pressed his mouth to mine, stopping me in my tracks.

  Anthony kissed me deep and hard, his hands sliding under my shirt, sending tingles down my spine. I leaned into him and felt his arms grip me harder right as he scooped me into him.

  “Bedroom?” I breathed hard as satisfaction slid along his expression, and he nodded, kissing me like he’d never kissed before.

  He laid me on his bed, and I opened my eyes to see him watching me as he stripped his shirt off. My pulse raced with yearning.

  Anthony unzipped his pants, and I nearly fainted from anticipation. I licked my lips and his smile widened.

  He looked so damn sexy as he knelt over me, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it to the side. Hovering over my body, his finger traced up my belly and my breath caught.

  “You like that?”

  I smiled, nodding as he slowly brought his hands to my chest. Quickly working my bra off, he cupped my breasts with his hands and his lips slowly circled the tender skin as my body arched, demanding more from him.

  I felt his firmness against my leg, and the ache for him was almost painful as his mouth continued its assault. He slid his knee between my legs, nudging my thighs apart, and I reached down to feel him in my hands—all of him—and it was more than I ever imagined. My breathing quickened as his lips continued to trace along my skin, traveling down my belly. He quickly stripped me of my pants, and a moan escaped my mouth as his fingers slid along my thigh.

  He hesitated, but I gave a slight nod, giving him all the permission he needed.

  Wordlessly, he knew exactly what I wanted from him—what I needed from him. As he climbed over me, I felt his skin, slick with desire as his hands ran along my waist, making my body tremble with want. Bringing his lips back to mine, I tangled my fingers through his hair and kissed him with a passion I’d never felt before. Propping himself over me, I felt him so close, and I couldn’t wait any more. I needed him. Sliding my hands down his back, I slowly guided him into me. His breath caught as he entered me, and my body tightened around him with each powerful thrust. Slowly kissing my neck as he rocked into my world
, I felt myself connect with his. Anthony’s hands skated along my sides, sending waves of shivers through my body.

  When my body could no longer take another second, he caught my hands in his as my body arched into him. His lips slowly met mine, allowing our worlds to tangle into a complicated mess of maybe-never-forever, and I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

  I’d been working on signs nonstop and thinking a lot about Loxxy. Anthony was right. The orders didn’t stop. In fact, they’d increased, and I’d already pushed out the delivery date again to catch up with demand. I thought the turnaround time might deter some customers, but not so far. They seemed willing to wait.

  I’d set up the basement at my dad’s house with stations so that whenever I had a free moment, I could scoot down there and keep moving production forward. And the truth of it was that I loved every single second. Every time I slapped a shipping label on a box, I felt blessed and energized, grateful for my good fortune.

  But it was also a bittersweet time. As much as I’d love to spend every waking second with Anthony before he left for LA, it wasn’t possible. All the furniture would be delivered tomorrow so I’d get to spend time with him then, but it wasn’t enough.

  A thump echoed from above and my heart raced. It was just my dad and me here tonight, and he’d been trying to get around with his cane the last few days. I darted up the stairs two at a time and almost crashed into him as he bent down to pick up his cane.

  “Sorry,” I said, out of breath.

  My dad laughed and shook his head. “Come.”

  I followed him into the living room, astonished that he’d managed to transition from the walker to the cane. Granted, it was only around the house, but it was a huge development.

  My dad sat in his recliner and rested his cane next to him.

  “Tell me, the boy.” His speech still slurred slightly, but the improvements from several weeks ago were stunning.

  I smiled and felt the flush run up my cheeks.

  “He’s amazing.”

  My dad nodded, his lips turning into a smile.

  “I’m so at ease with him, and he pushes me to do better.”

  “To dream,” my dad mumbled.

  “Yes. Definitely to dream, to believe in myself. I’ve always been so afraid of the risks in life, but I’m starting to see that sometimes risk is a necessary evil.”

  My dad chuckled.

  “He’s going back to LA.”

  My dad’s eyes studied my expression and I pushed down a swallow. I knew there was so much more he wanted to tell me, but I could feel what he wanted to say. I could see it in his eyes, but I wasn’t willing to ask myself that same question.

  “Anyway, I found out he’s going to be performing at the fundraiser for your medical bills, and then the next day he’ll fly out.”

  My dad kind of grunted and twisted in his chair. He looked frustrated and reached for his cane.

  “Don’t let.” His mouth twisted and a few beats passed by. “him be . . .”

  He scrunched his eyes and sat back in the chair. “A Mary.”

  “Don’t let him be a Mary? Did she get away?” I asked softly, and his eyes blinked open.

  “Yes,” he said quietly.

  “But sometimes, timing isn’t right or circumstances aren’t right.”

  “Love always.” He took a deep breath in. “Right.”

  “Love is always right,” I repeated. “Risk and reward.”

  He nodded again and reached for his walker. He could use his cane to get around, but he still needed his walker to get up from the recliner. One of the many things on my wish list for him was one of those fancy recliners that literally shot the person out of the seat. Not quite, but close enough.

  I got up and pushed the walker toward him.

  “Going to bed,” he said, holding onto the walker and bringing himself up. I’d learned not to offer to help. He hated people rushing to him, and I respected that. I also understood where I got my reluctance to accept help.

  “Okay, good night. Love you, Daddy. And thank you for the advice. I needed to hear it.”

  “Love,” he said, smooching my cheek and slowly working his way out of the living room, cane in hand. I waited a few minutes until I heard his bedroom door click, and I rushed back downstairs to the basement, determined to finish a few more signs.

  It didn’t take long before I was in my groove, and instead of finishing a few, I’d managed to get ten more on the drying racks. They’d be ready to ship out with the others tomorrow, which would bring tomorrow’s tally to twenty-five boxes out the door, giving me space down here to start it all over again. I glanced at my phone and wondered if Anthony was still awake.

  Probably not.

  But maybe.

  I Facetimed him, and he answered instantly, sending a mixture of delight and satisfaction through me. His grinning face filled my screen, and I gave him a playful kiss.

  “What are you wearing?” I teased.

  He moved the camera out for a full view, and I was pleased to see he had a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms and nothing but a bare chest.

  “Nice evening wear. Wish I were there.”

  “Now it’s your turn. What are you wearing?” He wiggled his brows, and I laughed.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m still in my painting clothes.” I zoomed out on myself and waved the camera all around. A whistle echoed through the speaker, and I brought the camera back to my face. “Nothing says sexy like grubby painting shorts and a tank.”

  “Or as like I like to call it, sexy Daisy Dukes and a skimpy halter.”

  “Catching up on Project Runway again?”

  “Like I’d tell you, but I do often wonder if I’ll ever be able to cash in on that bet you lost.”

  I spun the camera around to show off the signs. “I’m a little booked right now because some hot celebrity decided to fill his time by tweeting out to his millions of followers, but maybe when it slows down a bit . . . sure.” I gave him a wry grin.

  “You know you love every minute of it.”

  “I do, and it’s been making me think differently about Loxxy.”

  “Yeah?” he sounded surprised.

  “I think it’s absolutely ridiculous what Brad asked of me, and I intend to take it up with the owners tomorrow after I get your place finished. Not only should Loxxy be keeping all their staff, but they should be hiring more so that when someone is out sick, we have a pool of available workers to bring someone else in. For years, if someone gets sick, it’s all hands on deck and we wind up exhausting ourselves. It just happened last month, and we barely made it.”

  “Good for you.” he paused for a moment. “But I thought you were going to say something else about Loxxy.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “I thought with the amount of orders coming in, you might be able to put in your notice.”

  “I’m still kind of chicken.”

  He let out a deep breath. “I was going to tell you tomorrow when you come over for the staging.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises.” I only half-joked.

  “This is a biggie.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Coastal Living wants to feature my home in their February issue.”

  The shock of it all made me speechless. These types of things didn’t just fall into a person’s lap.

  “Did you just go catatonic on me?” he asked, waving into the phone. “Hello?”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Exactly like it sounds. There’ll be a spread in the magazine featuring my renovation, and of course, your décor.”

  “How did they find out you remodeled a home?”

  “Never one to miss an opportunity, Cole reached out to the magazine for the spread.”

  “Of course he did.”

  “I thought you’d be excited.”

  “I’m too scared to be excited.” I laughed. “We don’t even know if what I ordered will look goo
d.”

  “Yes. We do.”

  “No. We don’t. It’s one thing if you don’t like it, but what if the world hates it?”

  “Their readership isn’t quite that big.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He adjusted the camera and sprawled out on the couch. Boy, he looked good lying there.

  “Let opportunity become second nature. You’ll see that the more you open yourself up, the more things start to happen naturally. And besides, I can guarantee that not everyone will like your designs. That’s how life works.”

  I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath. He was right. I couldn’t let fear direct my choices or I’d never try anything.

  “Do you follow any of those magazines on Facebook?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I follow that one and several others.”

  “Have you ever clicked on the comments after they’ve posted a picture of a redecorated room?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I was talking about. Those commenters are vicious. They rip the rooms apart, and many times they take it a step beyond and start tearing up the designer.”

  “Yeah. I see that. I just went over to their Facebook page.”

  “It’s the one thing I really don’t understand about the internet.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s like a nesting ground for people to complain.”

  “Armchair critics are what we call them, but don’t let a few people who think their opinion matters stop you from reaching your goals. You’re the brave one, putting your designs out there, while they’re just hiding behind their keyboard, not accomplishing anything in the field they’re criticizing.”

  “Sounds like you have some experience in this?”

  “A little.” He snickered. “I learned early on that my music isn’t going to make everyone happy. Some people will love it and others will hate it. Same for design. Same for any creative endeavor.”

  A few seconds of silence passed between us.

  “So how does something like this work?” I asked.

  “The magazine will send someone to photograph the home in three weeks, and then in January or so, they’ll do the interview. They’ll want to interview me, and they’ll want to interview you.”

  “No way. Are you serious? I’m a no-name.”